Finger Paint
by I My Me Mine
Summary: When Meulin, the self-proclaimed shipper, finds some well-kept blood, what does she do? Asks her ex-matesprit to draw ships with her. Maybe someday you'll tell him you're still red for him. Maybe.


The two ex-matesprits. Best friends? The couple that somehow managed to stick together and not feel awkward considering they use to be more than just friends; the two were now drawing on the massive lily pad they were sitting on. It was something Meulin remembered doing a lot as a growing wiggler; drawing her ships. While exploring, she stumbled upon some well-kept blood and, not wanting such a precious item to go to waste, ran to Kurloz and mimed that she wanted to draw ships with him.

That was what they were doing now; Meulin was drawing redrom while Kurloz handled the blackroms. She wasn't lying when she told Meenah that Kurloz was talented at picking blackrom pairs. It was like he just _knew _who was better off with who when it came to the caliginous quadrant. It was one of the many things she admired –liked- about him.

Moments like these, where Meulin knew everything was quiet and didn't have to try and hurt herself to remember sounds, was when she could really appreciate her former matespirt. Kurloz, aside from the all the religious talk about mirthful messiahs and angels of double death, is a great guy. He's sweet, caring, protective, and more. Sure he seems a little crazy, but just about every troll in their team have some dents in their thinking pans.

Even though it was over, long over after the incident where she woke up to a world with screams, silence, and stitched up grey lips, there was still a part of Meulin that loved him; loved the silly indigo-blood that dressed in a skeleton suit and appeared when she couldn't recall what she had done a few minutes ago. She missed her matesprit; the way his lips felt on hers and –it made her blush just thinking about it- the way he would kiss her so passionately as though she was the most important person in the world. It made her feel like all the ships she had couldn't compare to the deep red that was them.

"_It's over though_." She thinks with a frown as her index finger dips into indigo blood.

Kurloz had drawn Mituna and Cronus together and was pleased to see the slightly sloppy pair separated by a spade. The moment he turned to show her, his stitches stretching with a smile, all thoughts of showing off left with the sight of the contemplative look on her pupil-less eyes. He wasn't accustomed to seeing her sad, even after the infinite amount of time they spent together in the afterlife; it bothered him. A second later was when he saw what she was drawing, why she seemed so pensive; it was them kissing with red hearts and 'otp' written on top of their heads.

Meulin didn't even realize she was subconsciously drawing herself and Kurloz together until he placed his hand on her shoulder.

She looked to him then down at her hand and gasped. 'I didn't mean to draw that' was what her hands told him, but the way his lips formed into a deep frown told her that he knew better than to simply leave it at that.

She didn't mean to reopen old wounds, to bring back memories that should have remained as just that, memories. She didn't know if it was him or her, but the lily pads briefly flashed to the room where she heard the last sounds of the world echo before eternally fading away. The image left as soon as it came, but their feelings hadn't.

Kurloz arm went around her body and pulled, bringing her closer to him, with her blood-stained hands and her olive-green cheek now rested on chest. If she wasn't careful, the blood could permanently dye his clothes, something that –although she felt foolish thinking about it- felt like a comparison to the way they were with one another; a big, messy stain on each others lives. Not that it was bad, but…it just wasn't the same.

The space between the two becomes nonexistent as Kurloz pulls her body closer, thoughts of the incident and feelings of guilt clouded his thinking pan. Meulin thinks of how he still smells the same as before, feels the same as before, and remembers all the good times in the past as she nuzzled and purrs against him. She can feel the paint smear his clothes, feel the pain emit from Kurloz, and hopes that her affection can be good enough.

She knows it can never be good enough.

_Maybe someday you'll tell him you're still red for him._

_Maybe someday you'll tell her you're still red for her._

_Maybe._


End file.
